We're Only Human
by furyofthetimelords
Summary: Clarke Griffin has been hunting creatures that go bump in the night all her life. It's not easy, but someone has to do it. But after she saves a girl named Octavia Blake from a possession, her life suddenly gets a lot more complicated, no thanks to Octavia's suspicious brother, Bellamy. AU.
1. Chapter 1

One

Demons, in Clarke's opinion, were the worst kind of thing to hunt. First, there was the bad weather that always trailed along in the demon's wake which often resulted in Clarke being rained on near-constantly and once even getting struck by lightning (an experience she'd rather not repeat). Second, there was the death. Sure, she'd killed a lot of things herself, but there was nothing worse than the bodies of the people she couldn't save. Lastly, exorcisms were hardly anything she wanted to bother with, but they were a necessary evil.

"I'll gut you slowly," the demon taunted as she tied it to the chair. "I'll rip you open and pull every single one of your organs out, one by one. It'll be a slow death."

"I'm sure," she muttered as she fastened the ropes and splashed them with holy water for good measure. The demon's skin sizzled where the water hit.

"Or maybe I should just rip you apart and damn you all the way to hell. You'll die a thousand times a day."

Clarke stepped back out of the pentagram to admire her work, ignoring the bloody deaths and damnation the demon promised.

"Not bad," she muttered and then began the exorcism, reciting the words with a vague sense of boredom. The first time she'd done this, her voice had shook so badly it was a wonder she'd even succeeded at all, but now it felt too much like routine.

The demon spat out insults and death threats, but they faded out as she drew closer to the end of the verse. The dark red eyes flickered a few times before disappearing altogether and were replaced with nice, normal brown eyes. Then, the demon burst out of the girl in a puff of thick, dark smoke which drifted down to the ground.

"Th – thanks," the demon's host said, gasping for breath.

"No problem," Clarke said and moved over to the girl. She looked younger now, like a grown up playing dress up. Clarke was glad the girl was still alive. Most demons weren't so nice, but she figured this might have been personal if this girl was still alive.

"Do you have anyone you want to call?" Clarke asked softly as she untied the girl.

"My brother," the girl said, her voice raw.

"Okay, sure …?"

"Octavia," the girl supplied and stood up, moving like she couldn't quite believe it was possible. Clarke felt a wave of sympathy for her. Demon possession was perhaps one of the worst fates in the universe, being trapped in your own body without a single ounce of control. It was one of Clarke's worst nightmares.

"I'm Clarke," she replied. "Can your brother pick you up from somewhere or do you want me to take you to him?"

"I don't know where he is," Octavia confessed. "That's why I need to call right now."

"Sure," Clarke said and handed over the phone. She stepped away and packed up her stuff in an attempt to give Octavia a measure of privacy. This was the kind of moment people needed to have on their own.

"He can pick me up from here," Octavia said, naked relief in her voice. "But he's going to be a while."

"I can set you up here in the motel. It's not glamorous, but it's something," Clarke offered.

"Thanks," Octavia said and handed back Clarke's phone. Clarke pocked it.

"I'm glad you're okay," Clarke said. "Not everyone's so lucky."

"What was it?" Octavia asked and hugged herself.

"A demon," Clarke replied.

Octavia nodded. "Why did it … take me?" she asked hesitantly.

"I don't know," Clarke replied. "I haven't found a pattern."

"I wish I could remember more, but it didn't want me to know."

"That's what they do."

"I … I was in the dark a lot of the time. I'd just black out and then suddenly, I'd be somewhere else but it's not like I could do anything about it. It moved for me."

"Well, you're free now," Clarke said and then reached into her pocket. "I have this too."

Octavia eyed the necklace carefully. "What is it?"

"Something that'll stop a demon possessing you," Clarke said.

"You don't have one," Octavia observed.

"I had mine tattooed," Clarke said and pulled down the collar of her shirt to show the tattoo over her heart.

"That sounds like a better idea."

"I don't think you'd need one of these. You're just a civilian."

"I want to do what you do," Octavia said firmly. "Show me how."

"It's not an easy life," Clarke said. "This? It's a good day."

"I don't care," Octavia insisted. "I want to be able to protect people."

Clarke nodded. "I get that, but you haven't lived like this and you don't want to. Not really."

"I know what I want," Octavia said. "I can't just sit here and pretend that none of this ever happened, that there are people out there like me."

"I guess I can teach you a few things," Clarke relented and hoped this wasn't a bad decision. She'd never tried training someone else before. That had always been her father's job. Her throat constricted at the thought.

Octavia seemed satisfied and let Clarke take her to the motel, which she seemed to be pleased about, even if it was one of the worst places Clarke had slept in.

Clarke didn't sleep well that night, mostly because of Octavia, who kept pacing around and tossing in her sleep. Not that she blamed the girl – whatever possession was like, Clarke knew it had to have been tough for Octavia. Nobody she'd ever seen got out of this unscathed. In fact, most people turned out to be a mess after Clarke had pulled the demon out. The damage, by then, had often been too much for them to handle. So considering Octavia was moving about, Clarke took it as a good sign. Maybe she'd be okay.

She couldn't handle losing another person.

/

In the morning, Clarke woke up to someone knocking on her motel door. She bolted awake, years of light sleeping paying off as she rolled out of bed, uncaring that she was still mostly dressed in her dirty, blood-stained shirt. It didn't look so bad now; at least the blood looked a little more like dirt.

She looked in the peephole to see her visitor and swore. It wasn't the motel owner, like she'd suspected, but some young guy. His hair was messy as all hell and he looked tired, the kind of exhaustion that could only ever come from having driven all night. Clarke should know – after all, she'd seen the look on herself in the mirror more times than she cared to count.

This must be the brother she thought to herself and noted that he was also ridiculously hot, even if he looked like crap.

Of course, she realised she should probably change, get out of her clothes and find something less confronting for a first visit. But there was no time to find anything else. The rest of her clothing was still safely tucked away in her car's trunk. This was supposed to be her spare set.

"Hello?" the guy called out.

Clarke swallowed her pride and opened the door. "Hi," she said and braced herself for some kind of accusation. It wasn't the first time it'd happened, but that didn't mean she liked it.

The guy looked her up and down. He opened his mouth, about to speak and—

"You're the brother, I assume," she said, cutting off any thing he was about to say.

"Yes," he replied curtly. "Now, who the hell are you?"

Clarke sighed. "Your sister's still asleep, but I can wake her up."

"I think I can do that," he said with an edge to his voice. He looked like he was ready to take her on, though Clarke knew if it came down to it, she'd probably win. After all, she'd tackled enough freakishly strong supernatural creatures and come out on top, so a guy like Octavia's brother didn't seem like much.

Clarke sighed. "I didn't hurt her, if that's what you're thinking."

"So, how did you find her?" he asked, but the suspicion didn't leave his eyes.

"I just did," Clarke said. "It's my job."

"Tracking runaway teenagers?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Not exactly," she said.

"Then what is it that you do?" he asked.

"That's a long story."

"I don't care," he replied. "I just want to know what exactly made my missing sister suddenly call me and tell me to pick her up from the middle of nowhere and end up rooming with some bloody chick."

Clarke knew she owed him that much, but she also knew how sceptical most people were. Nobody wanted to believe the truth – they were all perfectly happy going on to believe a lie. And this guy didn't look like the type to believe in something on the word of a stranger.

"I think I'll let Octavia tell you that herself," Clarke said.

"Why don't you tell me now?" he said and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. She knew he was trying to intimidate her, but she wasn't scared. No matter what he thought he could do to her, she'd seen scarier things. Someone like him wasn't what she was afraid of.

They stared at each other for a long minute and just when Clarke was about to break the silence with some excuse, a sharp, happy cry broke the silence.

"Bellamy!" Octavia said and barrelled into her brother's arms, nearly knocking him over.

"O," the guy—Bellamy—whispered as he hugged her tightly.

Clarke looked away. It'd been a long time since anyone had been that glad to see her. A lump rose in her throat and she walked over to her bed and began to carefully deconstruct most of the protective barriers she'd constructed throughout the room.

It was a nice distraction for a while, but Clarke was too well-versed in this process to make it last any longer than absolutely necessary. She glanced over to Octavia again, who was still hugging her brother tightly and crying into his shoulder. Clarke looked away and dumped the used materials into the trash. They'd done their part, just as she had.

"I should go," she told the two of them. "I can pay for the room another night, if you need it."

"Wait, you're leaving?" Octavia said, sounding hurt. She pulled away from Bellamy.

"I need to get on the road again," Clarke said and glanced at Octavia, hoping she understood her true meaning.

"Weren't you going to show me those things?" Octavia demanded. Bellamy looked at Clarke pointedly as if demanding an explanation.

"Yeah, I have those here," she said and pulled out a few scribbled pages from motel stationary from a place three states away. She'd written it all out last night before she'd fallen asleep. "It's everything you need to know for now."

"Oh—I thought you'd do it in person," Octavia said.

"I wish I could," Clarke said honestly. "But I can't stay here and you deserve to get back home."

Octavia still looked disappointed. Clarke tried not to feel too bad about that, but she had her rules to keep. Getting attached was strictly banned and she knew that if she let herself, she'd care too much about the wellbeing of this girl who'd probably get hurt again, or worse, if Clarke let her see too much of this life.

"Do either of you care to explain what you're talking about?" Bellamy said.

Clarke ignored him. "I need to go now. Goodbye."

"Wait," Octavia said and grabbed Clarke's arm. "Do you have some way I can contact you? If I need to?" she said in a rush.

"I—I guess you can have my number. But only use it for an emergency," Clarke said, stressing the word. Octavia nodded in response and Clarke quickly scribbled the digits on the back of a fuel receipt.

Octavia took the piece of paper. Bellamy still waited for some kind of explanation, but Clarke didn't want to be the one to explain it to him.

"Hey, you can't just leave," Bellamy said. He was still blocking the door, which made her edgy. She didn't want to have to tackle him, but she would, if he wouldn't let her go.

"I need to," she said simply and slipped past him, but he grabbed her arm before she could escape to her car.

"I don't think so," he said. "I want to know what the hell you're doing out here and how you found her."

"I was keeping an eye out. I noticed you sister, helped her out. Did the right thing and all," Clarke said. "It honestly doesn't matter. You've got your sister back, safe and sound."

"Well, I think it does," he said and moved closer. If he wasn't so frustrating, Clarke probably would've been flirting with him now.

"Bell, please, just let it go," Octavia said. "Clarke just let me stay with her and use her phone. That's all there is to it."

"Then why are you covered in blood?" Bellamy challenged.

"Road kill," Clarke replied.

"Your car is perfectly fine," Bellamy said, glancing at the crappy Toyota she'd bought off a guy in a junkyard three months ago. It was already on its last legs, but she didn't have the cash for a new one yet. She'd probably have to steal the money.

"I didn't say I hit it. Some guy ahead of me did. I stopped to help the poor thing and that's when I noticed Octavia," she said, trying to spin the lie as calmly as she could.

"Where was she?"

"Just in the woods," Clarke half-lied. She left out the part where the demon possessing Octavia had chased her there. And the subsequent journey to the abandoned farm house to perform the exorcism.

"Then what the hell did you give her just now?" Bellamy said and gestured to the note in Octavia's hand.

"Self-defence tips. I took a few classes a while back," It's not exactly a lie and it rolls easily off her tongue.

Bellamy purses his lips. "Okay," he said after a long moment of silence.

"See? It's all fine, Bell," Octavia said. "Let her go."

Clarke watched Bellamy carefully as he looked back and forth between his sister and her. She knew what he was thinking, assessing her threat level and deciding if it was worth the fight.

"Well, I guess we'd better get on the road," Bellamy said. "Thanks."

The last word was barely whispered.

"No problem," Clarke replied.

"Call me, sometime," Octavia said and threw her arms around Clarke in a tight hug. Momentarily surprised, Clarke was frozen and carefully placed her arms around Octavia and patted lightly. Octavia slipped her a piece of paper with her phone number scrawled on it.

"Hurry up, O," Bellamy said, annoyed, but Clarke didn't miss the underlying affection in his voice.

Octavia smiled on her way out. Bellamy gave a reluctant wave.

_A job well done_, she thought to herself as she watched them go.

/

"I don't like her," Bellamy said when they were on the road again. It was a hell of a drive ahead of them, especially considering he'd be doing it for the second time in about as many days, but all of it was worth it if it meant he could get his sister home safe.

"Clarke saved my life, Bell," Octavia said with an edge to her voice. Bellamy glanced over at her. Truthfully, his sister looked awful. There were dark circles around her eyes and she was dressed in strange clothes for a hike out in the middle of North Carolina. They looked better suited to some sort of club.

"You don't know that," he argued. "You told me you had no idea what happened to you. That Clarke knows something."

"You can trust her, Bell," Octavia replied seriously. He noticed her fiddle with an unfamiliar pendant with a star on it.

"She was lying, O," he said. That whole meeting, he'd gotten the feeling the blonde chick was holding out on him. Even if she'd had a decent story, Bellamy knew there had to be something else he wasn't being told here.

When his sister had disappeared, it had felt like the end of his world. Octavia, who he'd spent so long protecting, was gone and he didn't have a damn clue about why. The whole time, he'd tried everything to find her. In fact, until he got that call from her last night, he was contemplating trying to get himself on the news and plead for her to come home.

Now that she was back, he felt better, but it killed him to know that something bad had happened. He only had to look at her to know that. There were bruises and marks all over her body, as if she'd been in a fight and angry red rings around her wrists were he assumed she might have been tied up. Not to mention the way she'd sounded on that phone call, the way she'd cried after he'd responded and then softly asked him to pick her up.

Then there was also the matter of Clarke. How did she really find her sister? He didn't believe her story about the road kill for a second. And what the hell was her job, if it required her to trawl strange country roads and find missing girls? None of it made sense. Besides, she had all that weird shit pinned up to the walls. He hadn't gotten a good look at all of it before she'd taken it all down, but it struck him as odd. Most people don't bother with decoration, especially in a place like _that_.

There was something more to this, he knew it. But nobody was saying a damn thing. He resolved to think up some way of investigating Clarke when they got back.

"Bell, please, just drop it," Octavia said. He didn't miss the annoyance in her voice. "You can trust her."

'I don't see how," he shot back. How had Clarke so easily convinced his sister that she was trustworthy?

"She could've left me for dead, Bell, but she didn't. I'm here because she saved me," Octavia replied. "Besides, I'm back now and you don't need to worry anymore."

Bellamy sighed. It was true, that he did owe Clarke for saving his sister, more than he was willing to admit, but there was the fact that she was lying. He hated liars. "I always worry about you, O."

Octavia was silent for a moment. "This won't _ever _happen again, Bellamy," she said.

"You're damn right it won't. I'll make sure of it," he promised fiercely.

Octavia smiled at him softly. "Thanks, big brother. Now, how long is it to the next town? I'm _starved_."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes, I'm back again with another, much lighter fic this time (the last one I wrote had too much angst and I just wanted to write something a little different). I've had this idea rattling around for a while and it was going to be a oneshot, but I decided I wanted to expand on it. I've already got most of it planned out and already at least half of the next chapter done, so that'll be up within the week, hopefully. **

**Reviews/comments are always welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

Two

There were few things in the world Clarke liked more than being on the road. There was just something about driving that endless mile, moving through towns and cities and empty stretches of highways. Music blasting and car moving along, it's what she imagines heaven must be like, if it even exists.

She considered her next stop. There were a few places she has in mind, but all she really cared about is going somewhere sunny. Clarke had enough of the dreary weather she's been stuck with in North Carolina. But most of all, she wanted a distraction, something to make her forget about Octavia and her brother entirely.

Clarke never made a habit of keeping in contact with most of the people she's met along the road. As much as she wanted to sometimes, there was a line she couldn't cross. What these people often see aren't things they should have to see again. That was her burden, and it wasn't fair to drag anyone else along for the ride just because she got lonely sometimes.

Sure, she had people who could have the label of friend, but they're like her: hunters. And if that means anything in this world, it means they're never easy to contact. Her people were excellent at disappearing off the radar for months, even years at a time.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed in her pocket, its obnoxious ringtone piercing through the music. Sighing, she pulled over to answer it.

"Hello?" she asked. There weren't many people who knew this number, so she hoped this was someone friendly.

"You're alive," a familiar voice said and sighed in relief. Clarke felt her stomach drop.

"_Finn_?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said softly. "It's me."

"Why are you calling?" Clarke didn't understand his call. What did he want? Sure, they'd be close once, as hunting partners and even lovers, but that was a whole other time. He had no reason to call her now, especially not after the way they'd ended things.

"There's something strange going on," Finn said.

"There's always something strange going on," Clarke replied dryly.

"This is different." Finn insisted. "I didn't know who else to call, but I think you might be able to help. Have you still got your dad's journal?"

Clarke glanced down to the passenger seat where a worn moleskin journal lay. The book was overstuffed to the point of nearly bursting; filled entirely with everything her father had known about the supernatural world. It was all she really had left of him. A lump formed in her throat.

"I do," she said and held back the tears that threatened to fall at the thought of her father. No, she was not going to cry while on the phone to Finn Collins like some emotional train wreck. She was better than that.

"Well, what can you tell me about werewolves?"

Clarke's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Werewolves?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Finn replied. "I think there's one around here. There have been some suspicious deaths in the area."

"Where exactly are you?" she asked, but she was distracted. A _werewolf _of all things? It wasn't possible.

"Ark," Finn replied.

"Where the hell is that?" It wasn't someplace she'd heard of, and that was saying a lot.

"It's in Virginia, just past the Carolina border," Finn explained. "Are you anywhere nearby?"

Clarke wanted to lie, but instead she found herself telling him the truth. "I'm near there, maybe a night's drive away?"

"Good," Finn said with a relieved sigh. "I need you here, Princess."

Clarke ignored the old nickname. "I'll try to be there," she replied, desperately hoping she wouldn't regret it.

/

When Clarke finally arrived in Ark, she almost drove right through it. The town itself was situated in a valley, as if it was tucked away from the outside world. There really wasn't much too it, just a main road with shops houses tucked behind them and of course, an endless amount of fields.

Ark wasn't as small as some places, but entirely unexpected. There were no road signs bar the small, cheery 'Welcome to Ark!' sign with peeling paint tucked away on the side of the road.

This was exactly the kind of place you didn't find unless you were looking for it.

When she walked into the small and only café there, Clarke felt all too-aware of the people watching her with curious eyes. She knew she looked out of place, with her new dark coat and suit, but it wasn't like she hadn't ever dealt with this before. Clutching her (fake) FBI badge in her pocket, she spotted Finn and sat down across from him.

He looked so much like the last time she saw him, his long brown hair nearly reaching his shoulders and that same neat suit he always wore for the first day on the job.

For a moment, it was like no time at all had passed. But then she remembered Raven and it all came back to her in full force.

"You're here," Finn said, looking up at her with a smile exactly like the one that used to make her melt.

Clarke smiled back, trying to shove away the sad ache in her gut. There was no time for that drama now. "So I am," she replied.

"It's good to see you," Finn said with a smile. "You haven't changed much."

"And neither have you," Clarke said and sat down. "So, what's up here?"

"Strangely, a lot," Finn said. "The EMF is crazy."

Clarke rolled her eyes and looked around. A waitress was in the corner, watching them in a way that was trying not to be obvious, but was, in fact completely obvious. "Let's take this conversation elsewhere," she said.

"You can come back to my place," Finn said. "I have a lot to show you."

"Maybe not there," Clarke said and tried not to think about how this kind of situation would've unfolded back when they were together. It was better to leave all of _that _in the past.

Suddenly, the bell on the door rattled. Clarke looked back at the door, expecting to see some hairy old man wearing plaid walk in, as expected of a place like this. But instead she got a face that was a lot more familiar.

Bellamy was here.

Clarke sucked in a short, sharp breath.

He hasn't seen her yet, so maybe if she just—

Bellamy's eyes fixed on her. His expression had been neutral before, but now it was downright hostile. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, his voice icier than it had been the last time she'd spoken to him.

"My job," Clarke replied and pulled the FBI badge out of her pocket. "Special Agent Clarke Cooper."

Bellamy looked taken aback. "Is this about my sister?"

"It's about another incident," Clarke replied and ignored the look from Finn. She'd forgotten he didn't know that she saved Octavia. "Though I assure you we have the proper authorities working on that case."

"Then why didn't you say something when we met?"

Clarke pursed her lips. "Finding your sister was unexpected. And I didn't have my badge on me at that point," she lied. "But I assure you, the proper authorities are working on it now."

"It's true," Finn cut in. "I called agent Cooper out here on another matter. She was on her way here when she ran into your sister."

"And who the hell are you?" Bellamy asked. He looked at Finn like he was some kind of cockroach he'd found in a cupboard.

Finn flipped out his own FBI badge. "Agent James Carter," he replied calmly.

"So what exactly are you doing here then, _Agents_?" Bellamy asked. He didn't have the kind of look on his face that said he was entirely convinced.

"We're here about the death of Mr Lawrence Palmer," Finn replied smoothly.

"That was an animal attack."

Finn didn't blink. "We've had some new evidence come to light," he replied. At times like this Clarke was reminded of how charming she first found him. Now, all she could think of was how manipulative he really could be. "So, can you tell us anything you've heard or seen that might have been considered out of the ordinary these past few days?"

"I've been preoccupied," Bellamy replied, "as Agent Cooper here knows all too well."

"Are you sure? Maybe there was something that struck you as odd, even if you think it might not matter right now."

"I really wasn't focusing on any of that. I just wanted to find my sister."

"Well then, thanks for your time, Mr …?"

"Blake. Bellamy Blake."

"Thank you then, Mr Blake. Please contact us if you see anything else," Finn said and slid over his 'card', yet another clever prop. The only reason she even had any made were because he'd bought up the idea. Just another reason as to why Finn was so good at deception. Not for the first time, she wondered how she hadn't spotted it before. Maybe if she'd seen it sooner, she'd have gotten the sense to not get involved.

Bellamy took the card, though he had a look on his face that made Clarke think that he was going to throw it away the moment he was out of sight. God, she hated people like him on the job. They were always out to make life difficult, thinking there was actually something _sinister_ about what she was doing.

Once he'd left, Finn turned back to Clarke. "What happened there?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied. "I just rescued his sister not long before you called."

"You didn't tell me that." Finn sounded almost hurt.

"I didn't think it'd be important," Clarke replied with a shrug.

"And now it is," Finn said.

"And now it is," Clarke agreed.

/

Bellamy looked at the card in his hand and turned it over and examined the details. James Carter, Special Agent it read, with a Bureau address and a phone number for the 'agent'. It looked genuine enough, but then again he'd only ever had one experience with an FBI agent before.

But that was a time he preferred not to think about, if at all.

When Bellamy tossed the card into the nearest trashcan, he decided that since Clarke was here it was as good as opportunity as any to make sure she really was who she said she was. Maybe this was all just coincidence.

However, the only problem with that plan was Bellamy didn't believe in coincidences. There was something more to this, something Clarke wasn't saying and was damn well going to find it out. Not for himself, but for O.

She deserved to be safe after the hell of what had happened. No matter how she tried to brush him off, Bellamy knew she wasn't okay. There was a look in her eyes, a haunted detachment that scared the hell out of him. Not to mention the way she clung to that damn necklace like it was life itself.

Whatever had happened to his sister, the ordeal that bastard had put her though was permanent damage on her psyche. He hated whoever the hell did that to his baby sister. She didn't deserve that on her.

He then wondered if that was what Clarke was here for. Maybe Octavia wasn't the first and there was a whole other side to this bastard. Maybe Octavia was the lucky one.

The thought made him feel sick. How many others were out there? People who went missing just like Octavia and didn't come home. How close had she become to being one of them?

_It's over now_, he told himself, but Bellamy didn't feel convinced about it like he had this morning. Thanks to Clarke's appearance, he felt unsettled. Whatever the real reasons he was here, Bellamy knew it had to boil down to trouble.

If they were looking into the death of Mr Palmer, then what was next? Would the past be dug up too? He hoped not. Whatever had happened then was nothing he wanted to relive. Or maybe Clarke already knew and that was why she was really here.

_Whatever it is then, I'll damn well find out_, he resolved and headed back towards home.

/

It was late when Clarke's phone rung, the shrill ringtone sharp enough to jolt her out of sleep. She'd decided to crash in her car despite Finn's offer to share his rental house with her. There was _no way _Clarke would spend that much time in such close proximity to Finn Collins ever again. The more distance between them, the better.

"Since when does the FBI deal with demons?" Octavia said the moment Clarke answered.

"Hello to you too," Clarke replied. "I told you not to call unless it was an emergency."

"I didn't expect you'd turn up here."

"Well, I am," Clarke said.

"So you're FBI?" Octavia asked again. "What's the policy on demonic possessions?"

Clarke laughed despite herself. "No, sorry, I'm afraid the government doesn't give much in the way of compensation. Or acknowledgment of its existence."

"So you're like the X-Files?" Octavia said excitedly.

"No," Clarke said with a sigh. It'd be nice to actually get paid for what she did. "I am who I am."

"Oh," Octavia said. "I really thought you were FBI. Bell said he saw your badge."

"Don't tell him I'm not," Clarke said.

"I won't. So you're really investigating some death? Or is it something else?"

"It's a werewolf," Clarke replied.

"They're real?" Octavia asked.

"Apparently," Clarke said. "And they're right in your backyard."

"I never knew…" Octavia said, trailing off. "I guess I have a lot to catch up on."

"I'll spare you the worry: if it goes bump in the night, it's probably real," Clarke said.

"Even aliens?"

"Who knows?" Clarke replied. Truthfully, she'd never really given much thought to the matter, but then again, she'd already seen an awful lot. So why not aliens?

"Well, I'll let you know if I see a werewolf around here," Octavia said.

"Thanks," Clarke said, though she didn't like the idea of Octavia werewolf spotting.

"And before you go, who was that guy you were with?"

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Just Finn."

"Finn?" Octavia asked, her voice dripping with suggestion.

"Oh god, no, not like that. Not anymore, at least," Clarke said.

"What happened?"

"He had a girlfriend."

"Oh," Octavia replied. "Not now?"

"I didn't ask."

"Well maybe you should."

"Still, no. Finn wasn't the best choice," Clarke replied. Though her time with Finn had been some of the best months in her life, it was now tainted by the fact that she'd ended up being the 'other woman' in someone else's relationship.

Octavia sighed. "Oh well."

Clarke glanced at the clock. "Anyway, I should go. I need to check out this place at night."

"You won't find anything exciting here. Ark is boring as hell."

"Somebody _died_ last week."

"Well, that was new, but people will talk it to death, like they do with everything here," Octavia said, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"They've been talking about you?"

"They always have," Octavia said. "It's not anything unexpected."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm used to it. Anyway, how did you find the werewolf was here?"

Clarke thought back to the conversation she'd had with Finn after they left the café. "He found the article in some paper and worked it out from there."

"That's not exactly scientific," Octavia commented.

"We've gone off less before," Clarke replied. Most of the time, what she found was nothing, though for every _nothing_ they had found, there was always a something that waited in their next find. "And we'll see the body tomorrow."

"Hot date," Octavia said suggestively.

"God, no," Clarke replied.

"What can I do?" Octavia asked suddenly. Clarke caught on quickly.

She flipped through a few pages of her father's journal until she found the entry. All of it was mostly notes and questions, with little concrete answers. Her father had only ever encountered a werewolf once and what he did have was essentially speculation from other hunters. "Silver is supposed to work, and wolfs bane," Clarke replied. "But mostly, I'd avoid going out at night."

"I have a necklace that's probably silver."

"Good," Clarke replied. "Stay safe."

"I will," Octavia promised and hung up.

Clarke wasn't sure if this was a promise that could be kept.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And this chapter comes to you at an abnormally fast update pace. I wish I could write this fast all the time, but I know I won't have the time. Also, if you're thinking there might have been a Twin Peaks reference in the chapter, it probably was. If not, then please just watch that show anyway. It's amazing (though odd, but I guess that's David Lynch for you). **

**Anyway, thanks so much for all the support so far! It's been amazing. Reviews/Comments are always appreciated so much. **

**PS. If you're wondering, yes, the mythology of this whole piece is based around the mythology of the Supernatural tv series, though I'll probably alter things (and no, it doesn't mean this will turn into a crossover. This is firmly a story about Clarke, Bellamy & co.)**


	3. Chapter 3

Three

It took a week after the death of Lawrence Palmer, when the second hunter arrived, for them to meet. The meeting itself wasn't anything any of them really wanted to do, but they all knew survival was the most important thing and that, unfortunately, meant a gathering. The situation needed to be dealt with.

The tallest of them surveyed the crowd from their place at the front. To an outsider, one would see a calm, collected mask. But the whole crowd could smell the tension rolling off their leader.

The crowd itself was restless. None of them liked the proximity; it just wasn't a part of their nature to want to be this close. Teeth were beared and claws were out, every single member of the crowd prepared to attack if it came down to it.

"Enough," the leader said. The crowd stilled and turned their heads forward. "As you all know, the situation has intensified."

"And who do we have to blame?" someone in the crowd called out.

"What happened is at the fault of _them_, not me," the leader replied coolly. "And that is why we need to be careful. They will hunt us and kill every single one of us if given the chance."

"So why not kill them now?" a voice in the crowd demanded – perhaps the same one as last time.

"Because," the leader said. "We need to be careful. The humans here would notice if these two _agents_ were to suddenly disappear. What we need to do is make sure there is nothing for them to find."

"So we're just going to stand by and let them live?"

"No, we're leading them away," the leader said. "Our safety takes priority over everything. Revenge doesn't matter."

"What if they get to close anyway?"

The leader smiled widely and revealed sharp teeth. "_Then_, we kill them."

/

Clarke awoke to the sound of someone knocking on her window. Startled, she leapt up and had her gun out in an instant and aimed it at the offender before she was even aware of her actions.

"Have you got a permit for that, Agent?" Bellamy asked with the gun still pointed at him.

"Of course I do," Clarke replied and put the gun away. That wasn't a lie. She liked to things legally when she could, but she usually considered the law pretty flexible when it needed to be. There wasn't time in her world to follow every rule. But a proper permit was one of the few things she would have, even if it was in a fake name. "Now, is there anything I can help you with, Mr Blake?"

"Just wondering what an officer of the law is doing asleep in her vehicle," Bellamy replied with a smirk on his face. Clarke momentarily wished she wasn't posing as an FBI agent just so she could punch him in the face.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," Clarke said. "This operation is pretty delicate."

"Should I be worried then?"

_Yes_. "No, this is all perfectly normal. We're just trying to find out who killed Mr Palmer."

"That was an animal attack," Bellamy replied. "Unless you're both secretly pest control, I don't see how you're going to do any good here. You're just scaring people."

_Good, _Clarke thought. If people were worried, then maybe that would make them think twice before they tried anything. "I'm just doing my job, Mr Blake, so if you—"

"Please, just call me Bellamy," he replied.

"Well, _Bellamy_, if you just trust that I know what I'm doing here everything will work out, I assure you."

"I guess I will," he said, though he didn't seem so convinced. Clarke didn't like the look on his face. It was the kind of look that meant he was probably going to attempt to catch her out somehow, as if not letting her do her damn job would be a good thing. Sometimes, people were ridiculous.

"Goodbye," Clarke said and hoped he'd get the hint to leave. She needed to see Finn and catch up with whatever he found last night, if there was anything at all.

"I'll see you around, Agent Cooper," he replied just before he left. Clarke didn't miss the warning in his voice. Clearly, he was not going to leave well enough alone, even if it was probably going to get him killed.

She really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

/

When she got to Finn's 'place', Clarke hesitated before she opened her door.

_This is a terrible idea,_ she told herself. _I should've just left_.

Though she knew that was a bald lie. A possible werewolf attack wasn't something she could just ignore. Every story she'd read, every scrap of information in her father's journal pointed at werewolves as being violent beasts. If one was lose here, then she had to make sure it didn't get the chance to hurt anyone.

And then there was the fact that it was in Ark of all places, somewhere Octavia lived. Clarke didn't think that was a coincidence, not at all.

With a sigh, Clarke got out of the car and made her way to Finn's door. He opened it after her third knock.

"Good, you're here," he said with a bright smile and gestured at her to come in.

Clarke stepped inside and found herself assaulted with memories of the past and, strangely, the smell of lavender. She wrinkled her nose.

"Sorry, I think the people who own this place are big potpourri fans," Finn said apologetically.

"I guess so. Now, what can you tell me about this case?" Clarke said. She might as well cut right to the chase.

"Well, as you know, Mr Palmer was attacked by some kind of animal, but if you see the coroner's report, he can't exactly identify what kind," Finn replied and moved toward the table. It was covered in paper, all seemingly unorganised but if Clarke knew anything about Finn, there had to be some kind of strange order.

"But what made you think werewolf? Why not something else?" she asked him.

"Because," Finn replied as he pulled out a file and handed it to her, "the body was shredded up pretty bad, but it's strange. There was no evidence of fighting back. Like the animal knew exactly how to kill him. And, if you look there, you'll notice it had pretty large claws"

Clarke flipped through the file and pulled out the photographs of the autopsy. The pictures were clinical, but even that didn't manage to mask the horror of what had happened to Lawrence Palmer. Finn was right, there wasn't much left of the man; all that was left was a torso, half a head and pieces of limbs. "That is something."

"I told you," Finn replied. "So, what does your father's journal say about all of this?"

"Not much," Clarke admitted and explained the details of the scattered notes her father had made.

"Can I see it?" Finn asked. There was something about his tone that made Clarke look up at him.

"Sure, I'll get it from the car," she said, suddenly grateful for a momentary exit. She darted out quickly, but slowed as soon as the door shut.

As she walked back her car, Clarke had the strangest feeling she was being watched. She looked around, but there was nothing there but trees and sky. Clarke shook her head and picked up her father's journal from her car.

She flipped through it on her way back and traced the familiar lines of her father's handwriting. Clarke knew the entire thing back to front; ever since her father had died, she'd made a point to memorise everything about it. Nevermind her father had already told her much of its contents in his lessons.

When she got back inside, Finn's eyes zeroed in on the journal. Clarke held it out to him and he took it and carefully turned the pages.

"The werewolf section is near the back," Clarke said and watched on as Finn turned to the right section. His eyes greedily scanned every word.

When he'd finished, Finn looked disappointed. "There's barely anything there," he said with a sigh.

"I told you. Most of that is guessing," she replied and took the journal back carefully.

"I just thought…" Finn said and trailed off with a shake of his head. "Anyway, I've already spoken to Chief Miller about all of this. He was the one who found Mr Palmer's body."

"Where did he find it?" Clarke asked.

"Out in the nature preserve somewhere. Apparently Mr Palmer was a bit of a hiker."

"We should check that place out," Clarke replied, though the moment the words were out of her mouth, she regretted the way they sounded – even more so when she saw the way Finn's eyes lit up a little.

"Yeah, we should," he replied, perhaps a little too lightly.

"Sure," Clarke said. "Anyway, I should go. There are some things I need to check out."

"Look, Finn—" Clarke began, but broke off when something outside the window caught her eye. "What was that?"

"What?" Finn asked, suddenly completely focused. "What did you see?"

"I—I don't know," Clarke said. "I saw something move outside."

Clarke pulled out her gun and moved to the window to get a better look. Once again, something flashed. She took aim.

"Wait!" Finn whisper-yelled and put his hand on her arm.

Clarke turned to look at him. "Why?"

Finn had a strange look on his face. "At least open the window first," he said after a moment.

"I was only going to fire if it got too close, Finn," she said and glanced out the window again. "And I think it's gone now."

Finn seemed to relax slightly. "Did you get a good look?"

"No," Clarke said. "It moved too fast."

"It was probably nothing," he said, almost too quickly. Clarke looked at him and wondered what he was hiding from her.

"Well, I guess I should go," Clarke said and turned towards the door. "Let me know if you find anything."

"I'll call you later," Finn said and for a moment, it looked like he was going to hug her, but Clarke moved out of the way and to the door.

Once she was outside, Clarke took a deep breath and relaxed. It was fine, she could really do this and it didn't have to be awkward.

As she drove away, the shape in the woods moved to follow. Clarke didn't notice.

/

"For the last time, Bell, please stop looking at me like that," Octavia snapped and forcefully put down her knife and fork, splashing a fleck of tomato sauce on the white tablecloth. Bellamy looked away from his sister and focused on that spot of red against the white.

"I'm not," he lied.

"You are. You haven't stopped looking at me like that ever since we left the motel," she accused.

Bellamy sighed. "I'm just worried about you," he said.

"No, you're being obsessive. I'm fine, Bellamy."

"You were kidnapped and taken away to god knows where for months. How is that okay?" he said and looked up at her. Octavia looked calm, if a little annoyed.

"It's not, but the whole thing is over now, Bell, you don't need to worry anymore," she insisted. "I'm home."

Bellamy shook his head. No matter how much Octavia had tried to insist everything was fine, he knew better. She'd changed since she'd come back, in almost imperceptible ways. There was something about the way she acted, how her eyes scanned a room and her hands clutched the necklace Clarke had given her.

No matter how much she insisted it was all over, Bellamy could read his sister like an open book. It wasn't over, no matter how much she tried to deny it. She might not remember what happened, but that didn't mean it hadn't changed her.

"You're not okay, O. I've tried dealing with it, but you're not over it. Please, at least let me take you to a shrink if you won't talk to me about it."

"It's over, Bellamy," Octavia said softly.

"Well if it's over, why is Clarke here? Why is the fucking FBI agent that saved your life here in this place if it's over?"

"She's doing her job, Bell. There's nothing you need to worry about," Octavia said.

"I don't believe it. What if this thing is related?" he said. They hadn't really talked about this before. Sure, he'd ranted at her when he found out Clarke had shown up, but this was different.

Octavia shook her head. "It's all some weird coincidence. Don't worry yourself over it," she said as she got up.

Bellamy was surprised at her answer. "You seem awfully calm about all of this."

"You're just overthinking things, Bell," Octavia said and left the room.

"I think I'm the only one thinking about this," he muttered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: and so the plot thickens again... (I may have an awful thing for writing vague yet menacing scenes whoops). Anyway, this is kind of the update pace I'll probably be sticking to for the next month or so before slowing down a bit when uni starts. But yeah, if you wanna keep up with me otherwise, I have a tumblr I'm always blogging from over at bluesargently.**

**Reviews/Comments always welcome (and so very much appreciated. the response I've gotten is amazing; seriously I can't say thanks enough)**

**PS. It was a mistake last chapter when I had Finn's real name on the FBI card and I've fixed that one little thing now, thanks to someone pointing it out. **


	4. Chapter 4

Four

Clarke had seen a lot of dead bodies in her time, though the remains of Lawrence Palmer, a full week after his death, were perhaps one of the worst things she'd ever seen. She might have seen photos earlier in the day, but the real thing was a whole different story.

"Are they even allowed to keep them this long?" she muttered as she looked down at the remains, neatly laid out against the cold metal. Clarke regretted to agreeing to this, even if she had wanted an opportunity to get Finn talking about what had happened this morning (in fact, she'd forgotten about this until he'd called her just as she'd started to eat lunch). He'd been acting strange, as if he'd had something to hide. This didn't sit well with Clarke, especially after what had happened last time he'd lied to her.

"Not exactly, but your partner here pulled some strings and here we are," a man in a white coat, who'd (rather enthusiastically) introduced himself as Brian, said.

"Didn't Mr Palmer have some family that would be unhappy with this?" Clarke asked.

"Not exactly, Agent Cooper. I didn't know him well, no one did really. He kept to himself, mostly."

"That's part of what makes this so unsual, as I was saying. Nobody had a discernible motive to kill him." Finn added. He still sounded calm and _normal_, like nothing had happened this morning. She wondered if this was just how he worked – brushed off the strange things and swanned along, as if that could erase the fact that he'd slipped up.

"Well someone certainly did," Brian said. "I mean, whoever killed this guy must have had some serious grudge; this isn't your everyday murder. It's almost like nothing I've ever seen before."

"Almost?" Clarke asked curiously.

"Yeah, a long time back, when I first started. Though that wasn't exactly a body, more a collection of parts, so to speak."

Clarke frowned. "That's pretty unusual," she said and looked over at Finn.

"Yeah, it was a woman—left a couple kids behind too; awful stuff," Brain said. "Hey, even your guys came in for a while, but they never did tell us if they'd solved it. I assume they had. Or maybe it was a cold case. But either way, it didn't happen again, like everyone was worried about."

Clarke filed away that information for later. "Sure. So, what can you tell me about the body? I've already read the report, but that called it an animal attack."

"That's what I thought it was," Brian said. "I was pretty much ready to write it off as a freak thing until I got the call from your partner. This body here has some serious damage. Whoever did this must have been practically overdosing on adrenaline or something, maybe even got hold of a pitchfork too. This is certainly not natural."

Not for the first time, Clarke was amazed at how rationally this man had boxed this murder, already got a believable explanation to explain the unbelievable. She looked over at Finn, who seemed to look a little angry. This was another thing that didn't fit, especially after his reaction yesterday.

He usually wasn't one to hesitate, so why did he try to stop her from attempting to firing on whatever the hell it was out there? It didn't fit with anything about what she knew about Finn Collins, but then again, could she have really known him at all? He was a liar and she'd been a victim of it. Sure, he might not have intended to hurt her, but it had happened all the same.

Something tight lodged in her throat and Clarke excused herself from the room under the guise of feeling sick at the sight of the body. Brian seemed unfazed, but Finn looked concerned, though Clarke brushed him off as she left.

Once outside, Clarke took a deep breath and cursed herself at getting emotional about all of this again.

_The past is the past_, she told herself firmly. There was no point in crying over this, especially now. She was better than that, had to be better than that. So what if he'd hurt her all that time ago?

_I'm over this_, she told herself. It was mostly true, though she had to admit that being here with him stirred up too many old memories. _Yes, that's was what it was_, Clarke resolved.

After another moment, she ducked back inside.

"Oh good, you're back," Brian said when she came back inside. "I was afraid we'd lost you for good."

Finn looked like he was about to say something, but shut his mouth.

"I'm not that bad. I just needed a moment,' Clarke replied. "So, you were saying?"

/

Of all the people Bellamy expected to see in the bar, Clarke Cooper was not one of them. In fact, he didn't think FBI agents were supposed to technically drink on the job, but she just walked in, sat down and ordered a beer without even glancing at him. The regulars spared a glance at Clarke, but then went back to their own business, though he knew this would probably fuel the gossip mill for at least a week.

"Whatever you want, Princess," he said, adding the nickname on impulse. Clarke looked up at that and her eyes widened noticeably when she finally noticed him.

"So, this is where you work," she said conversationally.

"What? This setting not country enough for you?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "I just didn't think of you in a job. But it figures it'd be a place like this."

"I wouldn't complain, not when I'm the one with all the alcohol," he said as he filled her glass.

"Oh, I'm not," Clarke said and drained half the glass in one go, barely moments after he passed it to her.

"Bad day?" he asked. "Or is that classified?"

"No, it was just a bad day," she said.

"Care to share?"

"Why?" she replied, an edge to her voice.

"I'm a bartender. We're like therapists, but better."

"You are so not using that line on me," Clarke replied with a roll of her eyes.

"It wasn't a line," he said. "I'm at work."

"I've just heard it too many times," she said. "It gets old."

"The offer still stands," he replied, as an idea formed in his head. If he could get her to talk, maybe she'd slip up and say something she wasn't supposed to.

"Well," Clarke said after she took another long drag that drained the other half of her beer. She held out her glass for another. He filled it up. "I think I'm being lied to."

Bellamy laughed. "That's rich, coming from you."

"What?" Clarke said.

"You of all people, telling me that. You're a liar."

"I'm nothing but honest," Clarke replied, affronted.

"Are you?" he challenged. "You didn't even tell me you were an FBI agent."

"That wasn't important," Clarke said with a shrug. "What mattered was that I got your sister back to you."

Her response surprised him. Bellamy hadn't expected an answer like that. "Can you tell me anything else about that?" he asked.

"It's mostly out of my hands now," Clarke said. "But I can say that it's dealt with."

"They caught who did this?" Bellamy asked and his heart suddenly beat a whole lot faster in his chest.

Clarke made a noncommittal sound and took a sip of her beer. The gesture was so blatantly casual that he wondered what exactly she wasn't saying.

"You're not saying much," he noted.

"I don't know much," she said. The words sounded like a lie to him.

"You seem to know a lot though," he said.

"I thought I did," she replied with a sigh. Clarke took another swig of beer.

Bellamy wanted to add some kind of sarcastic comment, but he refrains. There's something about the way she looked that told him not to push. Besides, rule one in this place was to keep the customer happy. He glanced over at the regular lot. They were already well into their own drinks and had decided the game reply on the shitty screen in the corner was more interesting than him and Clarke, though he knew at least three of them were probably listening in.

So, he poured her another drink and asked her a few questions, in hopes of being able to pick out some small flaw that would expose a lie. Or at least give him answers as to what the hell was really going on. What he learned instead was:

Clarke was a traveler, passionate about road trips and long journeys across highways through infinite amounts of cities and towns. She wasn't a fan of planes, instead preferring to drive everywhere she went. She also wasn't one to talk about her family; instead she simply brushed off every question he asked about it.

She also had a tattoo, though this wasn't something he figured out until after her fifth drink when she'd complained it was too hot in here and undid a few buttons on her shirt and muttered about the frustrating nature of dress shirts.

Bellamy tried not to stare at the skin (she might have been a liar, but that didn't exempt her from being hot. He was only human, after all), but the dark ink of the tattoo had caught his eye. He'd never seen it before, but the shape was familiar. He'd seen it enough times on a pendant around his sister's neck.

The shape itself was a star, with carefully stylised lines that it reminded him of a Celtic knot in the way that they were interwoven to form the star shape. There was a circle around it, along with a neat edging of flames, he assumed.

"Nice tattoo," he commented and hoped she was drunk enough not to mention that he'd probably have to had practically look down her shirt to see it.

"You're looking down my shirt," she replied dryly. Apparently tonight wasn't his lucky night. "Stop that and pour me another one."

"You've already had five," he replied.

"So? I'm not that drunk yet. It's just beer, and I'm not in high school," she argued.

"Prove it, then," he said.

Clarke pursed her lips. "Fine," she said after a moment and stood up. She then proceeded to walk in a surprisingly straight line, touching her nose with each outstretched arm. The regulars in the bar paused to look at this spectacle.

Bellamy was mildly impressed. He wouldn't have picked her for someone with a high alcohol tolerance.

"Good enough for you?" she said once she'd done her little spin.

Bellamy shrugged and poured Clarke her requested sixth drink.

"Thanks," she said when he passed it to her.

"I hope this isn't going on the Bureau's bill," he said.

"Hell no," Clarke said with a snort. "I pay for my own beer."

"You must spend a lot on beer then if your car is any indication."

"I don't spend a lot on beer and a government job doesn't exactly get the best pay," Clarke said with a shrug.

Bellamy tried not to show his frustration at her answer. Sure, it fit, but the feeling in his gut that told him there was so much more to this wasn't going away. Nor was it ever going to be satisfied, it seemed, if Clarke continued giving him answers like this and Octavia staying silent.

For a moment, he wondered if he could get the other guy, James or whatever his name was, to talk. But he decided against it. Clarke was not only a prettier face, but she was the one who found his sister. She was obviously much more at the centre of this than the other guy.

It seemed everything here came back to Clarke. Clarke, who was the one to find his sister, Clarke who arrived in town barely even a few days after and turns out to be a fucking FBI agent and now, apparently, had a tattoo not unlike the pattern on Octavia's new necklace.

The whole thing infuriated him. Bellamy damn well knew there had to be something here and Clarke had to know what it was. There was too much to all of this that he was missing. And Clarke was the only one who seemed to know the answers.

He just didn't know how to get them.

"Anyway," Clarke said and pulled out her purse and paid the tab. "Nice talk, but I should probably get going now."

"I hope you're not driving home."

She looked offended. "I'm fine."

"You've had six drinks and despite your somewhat amazing ability to drink that much and remain apparently sober, you will get pulled over. Miller always makes sure to check people out here. Let me drive you back."

"I walked here," Clarke said.

"From your car?"

"No, from my place."

Bellamy quirked an eyebrow. "So you live in your car?"

"What? How did—you know what, I'm gone," Clarke said sharply and picked up her coat.

"You really live in your car?" he asked, surprised. Of all the things he'd expected her to say, that wasn't one of them.

"Not exactly. The Bureau fucked up and I'm stuck out here."

"What about your partner?"

"I'm not going anywhere near that," Clarke said firmly and he wondered what kind of history was there. "And what's it to you anyway? I know you don't like me."

"You saved my sister's life," he said, though that wasn't exactly the entire truth.

"You still don't like me," Clarke said.

Bellamy shrugged noncommittally. Truthfully, she didn't seem too bad, if not for the fact that she was a liar. "Then if you're not staying with him, then take the spare room in my place," he said and surprised himself. However, after he said it, an idea formed in his mind.

Clarke looked even more surprised than he felt when he first said the words. "What?"

"O would want me to," Bellamy said. It wasn't exactly a lie, Octavia would probably have made him go out and pick up Clarke if she found out anyway. But if he could get Clarke at a closer range, then maybe he could figure something out. "Also, if it makes you feel better, pay me for it."

"No thanks," Clarke said. "I'm fine."

"You're sleeping in your car," he pointed out. "And anyway, it doesn't have to be forever. You can just stay the night and I can get you somewhere in the morning."

"This is how murder happens," Clarke muttered. "But whatever, I guess I can do that."

"I get off at midnight," he replied.

/

Octavia couldn't sleep. Not because she didn't want to, but because she didn't think she could. Any time she tried, memories of her possession surfaced in her mind and played over and over, every horrible moment relieved.

Sure, she said she had blacked out for a lot of it and Octavia thanked her lucky stars she had, but there were moments when the demon made her watch on helplessly as she watched her own hands torture people. Rationally, she knew it wasn't here doing those things, but the memories were there all the same, sharp splinters of time she wished would vanish entirely.

The worst part was the secret keeping. Octavia wanted to be honest with her brother, to tell him that it wasn't someone he should be worried about, but rather something. He thought it was just trauma and believed there was a simple cure, like he could find a way to fix everything like he always had before.

Her memories were full of Bellamy playing the part of big brother and protecting her all her life. That was just how it was with them. But things had changed now. Octavia knew it was up to her to protect herself now. She was the one who knew about the monsters in the dark, the truth that they were more than just a shadow.

It was a strange role-reversal, especially since Bellamy had no idea how to deal with what had happened. He did try, but there was nothing he could do. No amount of home-cooked meals, concerned stares or promises of psychological counselling they couldn't exactly afford would do a damned thing.

Octavia sighed and got out of bed. Sleep didn't seem to be in her near future, so she might as well do something with all these newfound hours. She moved as quietly as she could. Bellamy might still be at work, but she didn't want any of their neighbours to hear her and say something to him. He didn't need to worry about her like that.

Once outside, she wondered if this was perhaps a bad idea, but dismissed the thought as she pulled out the bags of salt from where she'd hidden them under the porch. Clarke's note had been brief, but it did come with some surprisingly useful tips (not that she'd expected any less). Salt, for one, was a good barrier against otherworldly apparitions – demons included.

She pulled it out by the handful, and scattered the white crystals across the lawn in a neat line. It was a strangely mesmerising sight, watching the salt land on the grass. There wasn't much light at all, but what little there was made the salt have something of a glow.

Octavia turned and continued down the side of the house, keeping the line even and as invisible as possible. If Bellamy caught wind of what she was doing, he might just lose it and send her someplace he thought she'd get 'help'.

Once the ring was complete, Octavia sighed in relief at the fact that she'd been able to complete the task. Maybe it wasn't much, but it was something.

And that damn well felt good.

/

Lincoln woke up with a headache. Not because he was hungover, but because he'd had a vision. Despite the way Hollywood might like to imagine psychics, visions of the future weren't as pleasant as a simple swoon or passing out. They _hurt_. The future was a volatile thing and despite his perceptive ability, it wasn't a thing meant to be seen by humans. Not without some pain.

He pushed through the pain of this most recent one and to his notepad, which he always kept beside the bed to note down the details.

_Dark shapes_, he wrote_, like (__animal)__ monsters of some kind. Fangs. Claws. Shape shifters? Not human, but similar shape. Seventeen of them, all the same – but one taller than the rest. The Leader?. _

Below the words, he attempted to sketch out one of the creatures he'd seen. It was a hard thing to do, because he only had his vision as a reference. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before, something that could have been human, if not for the unnaturally hands that tapered off into claws and teeth as sharp as a shark.

_What are you?_ Lincoln wondered as he looked at his latest sketch. Then another detail came back to him. He wrote it down:

_Location: Ark_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yep, an ominous end to the chapter. They're always my favourite thing to write. Anyway, I really liked writing this chapter, especially the scene where Octavia is putting out the salt ring (fun fact: it was actually the first thing I wrote for this chapter). That was a fun scene to write, even if I didn't initially intend on including her POV, it just kinda happened ****and I decided to stick with it. **

**Reviews/comments/etc always welcome & appreciated to the moon and back. **

**PS. The 'animal' in Lincoln's note is meant to be crossed out, but apparently doesn't translate strike thoughts. The effect looks a little better on AO3 (where I crosspost a lot of my work, under the same pen name). **


	5. Chapter 5

Five

The house wasn't anything grand, but it was more than anything Clarke had ever lived in. Her whole life had been spent on the road, with no time for permanence, especially in the form of a real home. Thus, her whole life had been lived in one motel or another and she'd always told herself she was okay with that. But when she saw a house like this, Clarke couldn't help but imagine what it might have been like growing up in a place like it.

Not for the first time, she wondered why the hell she was here of all places. Maybe those drinks had hit her harder than she'd thought and this was all some drunken misstep. But she couldn't help but think back to the surprisingly genuine tone in his voice when he'd offered to let her stay for the night. It had been unexpectedly nice.

"Home sweet home," Bellamy muttered as he pulled into the driveway. They'd left her car at the bar, though that hadn't mattered much as it was barely a street or two away from where she was.

"It's a nice place," Clarke said as she looked over the house. She meant it too. It might not have been a mansion, but it was miles above what she'd slept in the past few years (there had never been enough cash for anything as fancy as a rental house, even for a night).

"It's not bad," Bellamy said with a shrug.

"Well I haven't stayed in anything as nice as this in a while," she replied and got out of the car, duffle bag of clothes in hand. As she walked along the driveway, she noticed a fine line of salt on the front lawn, which she suspected was Octavia's going. "Thanks again, by the way."

"Don't mention it," Bellamy said calmly. Clarke tried not to find this new, generous Bellamy too strange. Maybe he was just one of those people who took a while to warm up to people, but then again, it wasn't like they'd met under normal circumstances.

When Clarke stepped inside the house, the sheer amount of history overwhelmed her. There were photos on the walls, of both Bellamy and Octavia as much younger children, as well as recurring photographs of a woman with them, smiling warmly into the camera. Along with the faded furniture warn by years of use, the whole place looked everything like Clarke imaged a proper home would be.

"What are you doing here?" A voice said and Clarke spun around to face the speaker. It was Octavia, who stood at the top of the stairs.

"Your brother insisted I crash on your couch," Clarke replied.

"I didn't say couch," Bellamy cut in. "We have a guest room."

Clarke raised her eyebrows. From the top of the stairs, Octavia did too. There was something unreadable in her expression that made Clarke wonder what was going on there.

Bellamy seemed to ignore both of their faces and led Clarke up to the supposed guest room.

The first thing she noticed was that it didn't look much like her idea of a guest room. In fact, it looked like someone's room. It had a nice, homey quilt on the bed and a certain kind of aged look to the entire room. There was something intensely personal about the setting.

Once again, Clarke was overwhelmed by the history of this place. Here, people had _lived_, not stayed overnight and complained about the mattress quality. This was a home.

Clarke felt like an intruder, just being here. It simply wasn't where she belonged.

"Goodnight then," Bellamy said and shut the door behind her.

Clarke quickly got changed then sat down on the bed and admired the quilt. It looked like someone's homemade effort, as if real care and love had been poured into every stitch.

A few moments later, there was a quick knock at the door before Octavia burst in.

"Why did he change his mind about you?" Octavia said before Clarke could say a word.

"I don't know," Clarke replied.

"Well, now you're here, can you teach me how to hunt?" Octavia asked eagerly.

"I—it's too dangerous," Clarke said.

Octavia frowned, some of her enthusiasm drained. "I don't want to be helpless, Clarke. You know more than anyone else what's out there and I want to be able to protect myself—and my brother."

"I see you've already started," Clarke noted. "I saw the salt."

Octavia smiled at Clarke's acknowledgement. "Thanks, but I want to know more. You've been doing this for so long and you're here now."

"I can't," Clarke said with a sigh. "There's too much going on here and I don't have time."

"What is it?" Octavia pushed. "Maybe if you teach me, I can help."

"I already said no, Octavia. Besides, I'd rather not to anything else to get your brother suspicious again."

"Don't worry about Bellamy," Octavia replied. "I can deal with him."

"Look, this is serious stuff. If I had the time, I could do it. But it's too dangerous now. I need to make sure everyone's safe before I do anything else," Clarke said. Part of her felt bad about the no, but she also knew that teaching Octavia would be a bad idea. Sure, Octavia had the potential to be a hunter, but Clarke didn't want to get too attached.

_But isn't it already too late for that?_ A voice in her head said. She tried to ignore it.

Octavia sighed, clearly disappointed. "I don't want to be helpless."

"You're not anymore," Clarke replied. "But I can't do any more for you now."

"This doesn't feel like enough. What if it comes back here-?" Octavia said. She probably meant to sound annoyed, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

Clarke sighed. "I can give you something else for that," she replied. "I can make another charm."

Okay," she said finally, but Clarke got the feeling that this wasn't the end of their conversation. Nevermind how much she wished it would be.

Once Octavia had left, Clarke settled down in the bed. It was by far the best bed she'd slept on in months, though she wasn't sure how much that actually said, seeing as she didn't exactly sleep in the most glamorous places.

_I wish this was permanent,_ she thought with a sigh, but then pulled herself up short. A place like this wasn't meant for someone like her, not when there were so many monsters left in the world.

/

Not unexpectedly, Clarke had left before Bellamy had woken up. She left a note, thanking him and said she'd be back later for the rest of her stuff, since she'd had to leave quickly.

Once he'd read the note, Bellamy decided that this would be as good as time as any to research that symbol Clarke had tattooed on her chest. It had bothered him all night, especially since it was exactly like the one Octavia had.

He booted up their ancient computer and googled various descriptions of the star symbol before he found a match.

According to one badly designed website, what Clarke had tattooed on her chest and Octavia wore a pendant format, was a pentagram, or endless knot, typically used as protection against demons.

The word demons caught his eye. Normally, he wasn't one to believe in that kind of thing, but he thought it was a hell of a coincidence that Clarke of all people had something like that tattooed on her.

An uncomfortable question settled in his mind: was there something supernatural to all of this?

_No. It's not_, Bellamy told himself immediately afterwards. He believed in what he could see and that everything in this world could be explained in rational terms. There was no such thing as demons. Wasn't there?

Doubt seeded in his mind, no matter how much he didn't want to contemplate the idea. It bought back up old memories—memories that were perhaps better left to be forgotten.

Don't think about it, he told himself firmly and tried to push away the images of that day, all those things he saw, but once thought about, the memories were hard to get rid of. After all, it wasn't the sort of day anyone could easily forget.

That was the day his mother died.

/

_Years ago…_

_Bellamy pressed his ear against the door of Detective Miller's office and listened to the voices inside. One of them was Detective Miller himself; the other was a man who'd announced himself as 'FBI', though Bellamy didn't have any idea of what that meant. Only that it was someone important. _

"_I've never seen anything like this," Miller said softly. "I mean, who does this to a person?"_

_Bellamy held back a sob at the mention of his mother. _

"_Not someone particularly human," the FBI man replied. He'd introduced himself to Bellamy as Agent Griffin, though he'd insisted Bellamy call him 'Jake'. That didn't make him feel better. _

_What would've made him feel better would have been a hug from his mother, but that was going to happen. Not anymore. _

"_Will you be able to find it?"_

"_I hope to," Jake replied._

"_You said you've seen something like this before?" Detective Miller asked. _

"_It was years ago."_

"_Can you tell me anything about that?"_

"_I can't say much about it. But it was certainly something else."_

_Detective Miller sighed. "You're telling me. Could this happen again?"_

_This time, Jake sighed. It was an unhappy sound, much like the one his mother had made when she'd received a letter marked 'URGENT'. "If we don't catch it soon enough," he said. _

_Detective Miller said a word that would've earned Bellamy a smack over the head. "Then god help us," he said. "Don't tell that kid."_

/

Bellamy closed his eyes momentarily at the memory of the conversation his younger self had overheard. The way 'Jake' had talked bothered him for years afterwards. As if there was something more to Aurora Blake's gruesome death than a psycho who hadn't got caught.

He'd been young then, just turned seven years old, while Octavia had been barely been a month old. But, despite the years since, the conversation had stuck in his mind; for years he'd tried to analyse it all, every single memory of that day until he wasn't sure what was real and what he'd imagined.

It wasn't just enough she'd been killed, but torn apart too – and all while he was 'running away' (a childish rebellion against cleaning up his room). The incident had haunted him his entire life, that he'd been doing something stupid while his mother had been murdered in her own home. But what had made it worse, was that nobody could explain it. Or even find the killer.

So, seeing this pentagram, a strange symbol connected to the supernatural, felt off, especially since Clarke _and _Octavia both wore one. It was another detail on an ever-growing list of things that didn't make sense – a list that had gotten even longer when he'd met Clarke in that dingy hotel room, with his long-missing sister.

A thought struck him then. What if Clarke had _given_ Octavia the necklace? It certainly fit, though he couldn't understand why.

_Whatever it is, _Bellamy resolved, _I'll figure it out_.

/

If it weren't for the fact that Clarke knew there was something sinister in this forest, she would've thought it was a nice place. The pines were and various other trees were still green and everything smelled pleasant and clean. All of it looked like something from a tourist brochure, almost a little too perfect.

But of course the fact that there _was_ something dangerous in this forest, coupled with the fact that Finn was right over _there_, put a damper on her mood. They'd been out here an hour, walking quietly through the trees. Clarke had her gun poised, ready to shoot at anything that might attack them. Finn had his out too, but it hadn't taken long for Clarke to realise it was completely empty of bullets.

That fact had set her off and she wanted to call him out on it, but she didn't want to tip him off that she was watching him closely. So, instead, she tried to talk to him.

"So, what made you take up a werewolf case?" Clarke asked. "I mean, it's not like we've got much concrete proof about their existence."

"I guess I just wanted to see it for myself," Finn said.

"You didn't find anything else better? I mean, what have you even been doing all year that made you pick a werewolf case of all things?" she asked.

"Truthfully, it was a quiet year. I wanted something new."

"Quiet?" Clarke asked.

"Yeah, I took some time off," Finn said lightly. The sentence pulled Clarke up short.

"Was it…because of what happened?" she asked. They hadn't even touched on their past shared past since they'd met up. Clarke would've preferred to let it stay that way, but she needed to know what was going on with him.

"Something like that," Finn said and took a deep breath. "Clarke—"

"Where were you at? Were you even hunting?"

"I did some things," Finn said.

"Then you must've not paid much attention. I've been all over the place," Clarke said. She didn't add that it was because she made sure she was constantly moving.

"I head a few things. You were talked about a lot," Finn said.

"Who told you I was dead, then?"

"What?"

"When you called me, you seemed surprised I was alive."

"I—I didn't think you were. You kind of disappeared."

"I was keeping busy," Clarke said. "And it's not my fault most people are hard to keep track of. Who told you that?"

"I don't remember now," Finn replied offhandedly. He seemed a little too casual in Clarke's opinion "It was a long time ago."

"It was only a year."

"A lot can happen," Finn said with a shrug.

Clarke pursed her lips. "Yeah, a lot can happen."

/

The pack followed the hunters, keeping just out of sight and in the underbrush, every step as quiet as could be. Neither hunter noticed them, but yet both clutched their guns tightly as if expecting an attack. The leader motioned for them to stay back and observe, reminding the pack of the skill they did best: hide and blend in.

However, not all were content to behave like that. There were those who'd rather go in head first and rip out the hunter's throats. One of these was a younger member of their pack, still full of youthful arrogance he believed rendered him invincible.

He waited, tensing for the attack.

/

The wolf had been following the pack since dawn. It might have just been one lone creature against seventeen, so it kept back and made sure that it wasn't seen by either the pack or the hunters that surely blamed it for the attacks.

But then one broke off from the rest. It wasn't the leader, not by far, but still the wolf would take what it could get. These creatures were dangerous and didn't deserve to live.

The wolf crept closer, almost right up behind the creature that had still yet to notice the wolf. This wasn't the first time the wolf had taken down a creature like this, so the whole thing didn't take long. It was all over in a moment.

If the wolf had any human thought, it would've thought _one down, sixteen more to go_. Instead there were just instincts, tangled up with the vestiges of human memories. All the wolf really knew was that this was what it needed to do.

Once the wolf was sure this creature was dead, it moved on fast. Though the entire thing had taken barely a minute, the pack would notice soon enough that one of their own was missing. So, it was common sense to get away now.

The wolf followed instinct and memory and found its way to a hollow tree, where a neatly folded set of clothes and a pile of supplies were stored. Then, the wolf was human once more.

_Thank god_, she thought with a smile as she leant against the bark, heart still beating rapidly in her chest. Though she was certainly a sight, covered in blood and viscera, the wolf turned woman had never felt better. She shook out her dark hair and grabbed a comb to run through it. Shifting always managed to tangle her hair something fierce. Then, she tried to wipe away some of the blood off her face. Though she was in a different form when it happened, it was still her body and she'd just killed something with her teeth.

Once again clean, she changed into her human clothes and took off again, this time careful to avoid the pack and the hunters they stalked. She'd already done her part for today.

/

After he'd had the vision, Lincoln pondered it all day. He tried to research the creatures on his own, to see if there was someone out there who knew what they were. His results yielded nothing.

_Time to talk to the expert_, he thought to himself and dialled a number he hadn't called in almost a year, but the digits were familiar.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end said.

"Clarke," Lincoln said in greeting. "You're alive."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" she complained, though he knew she was pleased to hear from him.

"You _were_ hunting a seriously powerful demon. Nobody really thought you'd make it out alive."

"Gee, thanks. Anyway, why are you calling now? Not that I don't appreciate it, but is something up?" she asked.

"I had a vision. Something I couldn't identify. It was in a place called Ark. Have you heard of it?"

"I'm there now," Clarke said after a moment's silence.

"Oh," Lincoln said. "Have you seen it yet?"

"I thought it was a werewolf."

"They aren't wolves."

"Oh," Clarke said. "I thought I was supposed to be hunting _a_ wolf."

Lincoln frowned. "Well, this can't be a coincidence. Should I come down there?"

"Yes," Clarke agreed. "I'm with Finn, but I think I'd like someone else here."

"Finn?" he asked. Lincoln was surprised. The last he'd heard of the guy was that Clarke was completely through with him. Of course, this had been said over a round of shots, so he wasn't sure how much that vow counted.

"Yeah, he asked a favour," Clarke said. "And I obliged. Mostly because I thought I'd get to see a werewolf."

"Have you found one?"

"No, and with what you've told me, I don't think I will," she said with a sad sigh. Lincoln smiled. For as long as he'd known Clarke, she'd been one for discovering new things, and finding out every scrap of information on all kinds of creatures, even ones nobody was sure existed.

"A shame," he replied. "So, do you want me to come now? I might not be there for a few days, but I can try."

"Yes, please," Clarke said with naked relief in her voice. "I need someone I can trust around here. Finn's acting strange."

"Well, in that case, I'll be there as soon as I can," he promised.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So today's epicly long brought to you today by too much research (in fact, that's probably how the majority of this fic has been written - with a hell of a lot of research that I could probably fake my way through but really what am I if not attempting to be accurate). I guess that's what you get for writing about a country you don't live in. But even so, it was a fun chapter to write. I enjoyed dipping into Bellamy's past. **

**Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Your thoughts/theories/etc are always appreciated. **


	6. Chapter 6

Six

Despite the fact that Octavia had been possessed by a demon and unwillingly dragged across half the country, school work still felt like hell on earth. Because Ark was such an isolated place, it lacked a real school and as a consequence Octavia had to do most of her lessons in the confines of her own home.

And she hated every moment of it. Before, it had felt boring and she'd often pushed for Bellamy to let her go to a real school, where she could at least meet more people. There wasn't exactly a high population of teenagers in Ark, most of which had already dropped out and gone to work on their parent's farms or businesses.

Now, it felt even more futile. How could quadratic equations and persuasive techniques matter if there were demons out there?

Octavia glanced at the charm on her wall. Clarke had delivered and Octavia had made sure to analyse the pattern then made several more which she planned to hang in other rooms around the house. She felt better with them there, even more so with the salt she'd laid out the night before.

However, she knew there was only so much she could do here. If Clarke had relented, Octavia would've been learning everything she needed to know to fight back for real. Sure, she could layer her home with every charm and protective spell she find, but that wasn't enough for her. She wanted to be able to do _more_.

But just like her brother, Clarke seemed to think it was better Octavia just stand by while everyone else just protected her like she was some fragile flower. She was almost eighteen already, and didn't she deserve more freedom?

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door. Bellamy. Octavia sighed as he came in. As much as she loved her brother, these new additions to their routine were not something she liked.

"Hey, O, I'm just about to head out for work, but if you need anything…" he said and trailed off, just like he'd done every night since she'd convinced him to go back to work. At first he'd been wholly reluctant to get back and she'd all but pushed him out of the house and insisted she'd be fine.

"I'll be fine," Octavia said and tried not to roll her eyes at him. "Get to work."

"Okay, but if you need anything, anything at all, call me."

"Sure," she replied. She knew he meant well, but his concern was cloying. Especially considering it was misguided. He had no idea what he should really be worried about.

"I'll see you later then," Bellamy said and left the room.

Once Octavia is sure he'd left, she made sure her door was shut and then went to pull out a bag she'd hidden under her bed. It was tight fit, but at least it was out of sight. Bellamy would freak out if he knew what was in here.

The charms themselves looked entire inconspicuous, just as Octavia wanted them to be. The less likely Bellamy was to notice them, the better. Maybe then he wouldn't try to interfere with the one thing that would save his life.

With the way the charms worked, they only needed to be placed at the northern most point of the room to work the best. Them, they'd give off an aura of protection that would cover an entire room.

The first, she made a point to place in Bellamy's room, just to be sure. The rest, she scattered around the rest of the house, in every room and corner Octavia could find. Once they were all set out, Octavia breathed a sigh of relief.

It might not have been much, but she knew she'd sleep so much easier with the knowledge that these charms were hidden around the house. It wasn't safe, not by a long shot – she knew how tricky demons could be – but it was _something_.

And that was more than enough for now.

/

When Clarke walked into the bar, she wasn't surprised to find it looked almost exactly the same as it had when she'd been in here last – right down to the clientele who sipped the same beers they'd probably been ordering for decades.

"Fancy seeing you here," Clarke said as she sat down at the bar, right in front of Bellamy, who was pouring out a glass of beer for an old man.

"Clarke," he said in greeting and passed the beer to the man, who gave Clarke a look as he left. "You still haven't picked up the rest of your stuff."

"I—Oh, yeah, I almost forgot," she said.

"You do own some pretty strange stuff. I didn't look though it, but it seems a lot."

Clarke shrugged. "I collect all kinds of things, most of it is case-related," she said easily.

"What about the tattoo? That's pretty different," he commented.

"Yeah, it was something I got in college," she lied. Clarke hadn't even finished high school, thanks to her lifestyle. There just wasn't time for something as mundane as Spanish lessons and English essays in a life of a hunter. Though she was content with her life, Clarke often wondered what she'd be doing if she'd been a normal girl.

"Does it have a meaning?" he asked.

"Not really," she said. "I saw it somewhere and thought it'd be a cool design. And I guess I just stuck with it."

"My sister has a necklace with the same pattern on it. I wondered what it meant."

Clarke shrugs. "It just looked cool to collage-Clarke."

She doesn't miss the way he looked at her, as if he knew she was lying about something. "She didn't have it before she went missing," he added.

"It's just a coincidence thing," Clarke said with a shrug, "funny how that works."

"Yeah, funny," he said with an edge to his voice. Clarke knew she was probably pushing her luck with Bellamy, but if it would throw him off somehow, then she'd gladly do it. He didn't need to be involved in any of this.

"So, while I'm here, I might as well order a beer," she said, "just whatever's on tap."

Bellamy just nodded and poured it out for her. Clarke took the cold glass and took a long drag.

"I really thought it was FBI regulation not to drink on the job."

"I'm officially off-duty at the moment," Clarke lied.

"Right," he said, eyes narrowed slightly.

Clarke put down her drink and looked him in the eye. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," he said. "I'm just worried about O."

"Understandable," Clarke said.

"So, I'm just wondering when we'll get to hear from whoever's organising O's case now." Bellamy said casually.

"Soon," Clarke lied and made a mental note to find someone to do something about it.

"I thought things would happen sooner."

"Rest assured, it's all being processed. Also, can we not talk about this? I deal with this enough during the day."

"You're avoiding talking about this."

"It's not my case," Clarke lied. "I don't know much."

"I would've thought you would've been put on it. After all, you did find her."

"It's out of my hands now. I don't deal with that kind of thing," she said. The lie felt strange on her tongue.

"Well, you should've tried harder," Bellamy said.

Clarke tensed at the accusation. "I did everything I could," she said and bit back a harsher remark. She didn't need to antagonise him.

"Well, then maybe you should back off," he replied.

"If you're saying you want me back in my car, then that's fine. I'll go, but at least be nice about it," Clarke said and got up to leave. "I'll pick up my stuff later."

She didn't look back as she walked out of the bar. Though she could feel his eyes on her, Clarke didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Once outside, Clarke kicked a fencepost out of frustration. There was a bitter taste in her mouth at her interaction with Bellamy. How easily he'd slipped into that accusation, as if she'd never done anything for him—as if he'd forgotten how she'd made sure Octavia was home safe. He had no idea what he was talking about.

For a moment, Clarke seriously considered telling him the truth, but she dropped the idea. Someone like Bellamy didn't need to be involved in any of this. Sure, he seemed tough, but he wasn't made for this life. He had a normal life with a normal job and if she said anything, even tried to tell him the truth it would destroy all of that.

Without anything else to do, she calls Finn.

"Hey," he said when he answered the phone.

"Hi, can you meet me tomorrow to check out the woods again? I think we might need to do another sweep."

"Sure, but what bought this on?" he asked, an edge to his voice.

"I just want to get ahead," she said. _And have this whole thing done with already_.

"Okay, I'll see you there," he said and hung up.

/

Bellamy made sure to leave as early as possible in the morning, the plan freshly formed in his mind. Today, he'd follow Clarke around and see what it was exactly she'd been doing. The most he'd gotten before was snippets of gossip from the bar, but he wanted to see it all for himself.

He felt bad about last night, how he'd lost his temper so easily and said all of that to her, but all he had to do was think about the haunted look in O's eyes and he felt better about what he was going to do.

There had to be more to it than what Clarke had told him. Bellamy knew that with complete certainty, no matter how many times she tried to brush it all off. Whatever she wasn't saying had to be something big, something she didn't want him to know, which only made him more resolved to find out.

Any time he'd asked her, she'd simply give him a vague response, especially in regards to the tattoo. So, naturally, it had to be an important part of whatever she wasn't saying, even if he had no idea what exactly it was yet.

The answers felt frustratingly close, but yet far enough out of his reach he couldn't see it all for what it was. He needed to figure it out, and maybe if he followed Clarke, he'd figure something out. She sure as hell didn't want to talk to him, so if he caught her talking to that agent Carter guy, maybe she'd say something she didn't want him to know.

It took him three hours before something happened. Clarke's car had been parked out at Mrs Oliver's rental house, where he knew Agent Carter was staying. She emerged from the house, Agent Carter beside her and got into her car before driving off in the direction of the forest.

Bellamy made sure to keep a safe distance as he followed them, always just far enough out of sight that they didn't pick up on him. Or, if they had, it wasn't acknowledged. Either way, he successfully followed them all the way out to the forest, where they parked near a stretch of road and got out.

They discussed something, Clarke obviously annoyed with whatever Agent Carter had said and then headed out into the trees. Bellamy waited a minute before following them. He knew the area well enough, having spent many a day wandering through the woods to keep Octavia entertained when the TV wasn't working.

"—well maybe we should be looking harder. There's got to be something out here," he heard Clarke say.

"Look, Clarke, we haven't seen anything since that day. Maybe whatever it is has gone."

"Or it's hiding, waiting for us. Lincoln did tell me they were out here."

_It_? Bellamy thought. _Weren't they looking for a person?_

"Maybe he was seeing too far ahead. It can happen."

"I don't think so," Clarke continued. Bellamy noticed a sharp edge to her voice, which contrasted greatly with the casual nonchalance of Agent Carter's voice. "Lincoln's visions don't work like that."

"Clarke—"

"Finn, stop," Clarke said and Bellamy paused and thought back to the name he'd read on the card he'd been given. It hadn't said Finn, to his recollection. "Lincoln hasn't been wrong about this before."

"Fine, but I really think we should go back soon. I don't think we're going to find anything now."

"You were the one who agreed to come out here."

"You called."

"Because we need to catch this thing—or whatever it is—that's out here. Something killed a man and we need to be sure that it won't do it again."

Bellamy's mind spun as he tried to process what he'd heard. The conversation sounded familiar in places, bringing him back to that awful day his mother has been killed. It was too much to just be a coincidence.

_What if whoever was out there back then killed someone now?_ The idea chilled him. He didn't like to think about whatever kind of monster that had killed his mother, but he couldn't stop thinking about it now.

Suddenly, he heard the soft _snap _of a branch behind him. He whirled around to see what it was, but then a dark shape came at him.

And then everything went black.

/

Octavia raced to the hospital the moment she heard about what happened. The phone call had come during another one of her botched attempts to write an essay and she'd picked up the phone out of pure boredom. However, when the nurse on the other end calmly explained what had happened to Bellamy, her blood had iced over.

According to the nurses, some kind of animal had attacked him while he was out walking in the forest. The damage had been serious, but not dire, thanks to the efforts of Agents Carter and Cooper. They'd called an ambulance and managed to stop the worst of the bleeding, which ended up saving his life.

Now here she was, sitting by Bellamy's bed as he slept, thanks to the massive dose of sedatives they'd given him. She felt awful, but didn't say a word about it. If she did, they might have made her leave, and the last thing she wanted to do was leave Bellamy's side.

To think he'd been out there, still so close to home, and attacked by _something_, scared her. She wanted to be better than that, but the feeling was still there, working its way into her system and refusing to leave.

She'd almost had a panic attack until Clarke had handed her a charm to weave, which she assured Octavia would help Bellamy with his health. But now the charm was done and tied around his wrist and Octavia realised just how pathetic it was.

Sure, she could rely on charms her entire life and hope that was enough, but that meant nothing unless she could protect herself regardless. She didn't just need to know how to protect herself, but how to fight back too.

Then a knock on the door startled her.

"Hey," Clarke said softly. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."

"I'm fine, but he's not," Octavia replied. "He could've died."

"But it didn't happen," Clarke said and sat down beside her in the other plastic chair. "Focus on that."

"I can't do that," Octavia said and shook her head. "All I can think about was how damn helpless he was out there."

"He's alive now."

Octavia took a deep breath. "I need you to teach me how to hunt."

Clarke was silent for a moment. "Look—"

"No, if you're about to tell me it's too dangerous, then don't. I know what it's like. I was possessed for _months_, remember? I know how it is. You can't protect me from that. What I need to do now is learn how to fight back. And I want you to teach me."

Clarke was quiet for a moment and Octavia watched her as she glanced over at Bellamy. "Okay," she said with a sigh. "We'll start tomorrow."

/

The pack came together again, though none of them were happy about being so close together. It went against every instinct they had, so claws were out and teeth bared, poised for attack if necessary.

The leader was once again out in front of them, but this time, they didn't stand alone. Knelt before them, was another pack member.

"Two of us are dead," the leader began. "And another of us is guilty of exposure."

"Lawrence wasn't one of us any more," another pack member called out.

"Lawrence made his own choices, but he was still out kind, no matter his separation," the leader snapped back, then relaxed slightly. "But we're not here for that now. What we're here for is a trial."

The crowd murmured in approval.

"Silence, now," the leader commanded. "Here, we have Nathaniel, one of our pack, now guilty of attacking a man and risking the attention of the hunters. Now, they will want to hunt us."

The leader paused for a moment to let the true meaning of the words sink in.

"For years, we have survived in the shadows, but now we're pushed into the light, thanks to the reckless action of a few."

"It's the wolf's fault."

"But the wolf is not here on trial, now, is she?" the leader said icily. "Nathaniel, however, is here and I see him guilty. What he has done cannot be forgiven and he must pay for that."

Nathaniel growled, teeth bared aggressively. But the leader simply kicked him to get silence once again. Not a single other member of the crowd spoke out now.

"He shall pay the price of his life, for what he has done. Nathaniel's actions serve as a reminder of what it means to live as we do. Any risks cannot be tolerated."

Then, without another word, the leader grabbed Nathaniel's neck in one swift movement and twisted it until it snapped.

Nathaniel's body fell to the ground. The crowd cheered in approval.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And we're back again! Sorry this took so long to do, but life has just swallowed me whole (I just started uni and it's been a bit chaotic, though I do love it). I have been working on a few other new things, so do keep an eye out for them soon. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the update and thoughts/feelings/etc are always welcome. **


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